The Okashira Who Never Smiles
by MaL
Summary: A tale of the beginnings of an obscure Okashira...
1. The Beginnings

A product of insomnia.

Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

The Okashira Who Never Smiles

- The Beginnings

* * *

In the year 1853, in a village of Saku of the old Nagano prefecture, was born a boy called Aoshi. His parents were respected members of the village society. They had an older child, also a boy, called Tazuka.

At the time of Aoshi's birth, Tazuka was fourteen. Their parents were very loving and made a striking pair.

Wise, blue-eyed and placidly calm, the father was tall and impeccably handsome. The mother was equally attractive, a natural beauty, matched with an air of pleasantness. Their eldest son, Tazuka, in contrast, was wall-eyed and limping. He had lank black hair and he spoke only with difficulty.

Initially, Aoshi's parents dreaded his birth. They loved Tazuka as any parent would love their child but his disabilities were a severe drain upon their resources. Aoshi's mother, Satori, was forty-six, when she first learnt that she was pregnant again. She ran her fingers worriedly through her hair and noticed that it was all too obviously grey. It was late for her to have a child, and she feared that the newborn would be as disabled as Tazuka, if not more so.

Yet, the boy was perfectly formed, exceedingly beautiful, in fact. And it was very soon evident that his wits were sharp too. He had a punctuated sense of humor - although it was less than subtle; many times Satori had to beat him for the cruel tricks he played upon his elder brother. Tazuka, himself, merely laughed at the little boy's games, tolerating him as a dog does a puppy.

Aoshi's father died when Aoshi was aged three, and Satori was forced to run the household alone. Tazuka remained unwed: the girls of the village laughed at him. The only people who appreciated his kindness and humor were his mother, Satori, and his baby brother, Aoshi.

The two boys often wandered around the surrounding countryside, climbing trees and swimming in ponds. Tazuka's lameness prevented him from taking part in some of the more outrageous adventures that Aoshi proposed, but when he was in the water, their difference disappeared – with his powerful arms and his bull-like shoulders, Tazuka could haul himself across the surface more swiftly than most grown men.

For a child, Saku was a paradise. Well, actually in truth, the blacksmith, Yamato, was grumpy and would hit out at any child who dared come within an arm's reach; Kazuii, the local money-lender and notorious miser, would shout incomprehensible insults at the two boys as they walked past his shop. But these were minor irritations.

Saku is set within a ring of low gentle hills, where small children play freely and pigeons strut in sure confidence that they are safe from predators. The outside world is just that - outside- and the people of Saku cared little for what goes on there. As far as the boy, Aoshi, was concerned, Saku was all the universe there was.

On Aoshi's fourth birthday he persuaded Tazuka to take him fishing on the banks of the Chikuma River. The day was brilliantly clear, the sky, of an almost harsh blueness. The older boy picked up stones from the riverbank and spun them out across the lazy brown water, cheering them as they skipped and hopped. Each touch leaving an expanding circle of ripples that slowly dissolved as it moved down stream.

Aoshi squelched through the mud until he was just around a curve of the river from Tazuka. Regardless of his clean white _gi_, he threw himself down on his belly and gazed into the shallows. He could see small silver fishes darting eagerly, hither and thither. However, there was also a still, lurking presence - a trout or a salmon of prodigious size.

The boy caught his breath. If he could catch this fish, there would be a rich meal this evening - a meal fit to mark the occasion of his birthday.

He reached his skinny pink arm into the cold, powerful waters. He moved his hand slowly, so slowly that even the small fishes were not frightened by it. He felt their little bodies bumping against his forearm. Aside from his arm, his whole body was motionless, but not tense. He imagined himself to be a plant growing by the river, and tried to fill his mind with this idea.

Slowly, slowly he let his hand drift downwards towards where the great brown shape quivered.

However, a small cloud suddenly covered the sun, and Aoshi instinctively jumped as the bright daylight ebbed. His abrupt motion startled the huge fish and with a few efficient waves of its tail, it moved away.

Aoshi couldn't believe his lousy luck. He used a word that he had heard while playing with his friends but which he sensed, quite correctly, his mother would have forbidden him to utter. He got to his feet and, after checking that Tazuka was out of earshot, he used it again.

It was, however, a perfect day, and his anger soon vanished. He picked up a twig, threw it into the current, and watched as it was swept inexorably towards the sea. He began to grin. Fish or no fish for dinner, life was good and he was happy to be a part of it.

He wondered where Tazuka was, and began to pick his way back along the riverbank. The mud was deep, and at times, he sank in almost up to his knees – something his mother would not appreciate. So wherever possible, he used fallen logs as stepping stones.

This was a good idea until one of the logs moved beneath his feet. He realized with horror that he had just trodden on the back of a sleeping crocodile!

The beast was covered in bark-like scales, and its tail was edged like a broadsword. Its eyes were shut tight yet its large nostrils accurately located the intruder. It opened its vast jaws and snapped in the general direction of Aoshi's legs.

"Tazuka!" he shrieked. There was no echo to his cry, and he realized that the scream had only been in his mind. Yet Tazuka appeared around the bend in the river, waving a length of muddy wood that he had obviously just grabbed from the ground.

"Help me!" cried Aoshi, and this time, he knew that he had indeed screamed out loud.

The crocodile hissed. It sounded suspiciously close to a crackling bonfire being extinguished by a group of mischievous boys who decided to relief themselves on it. If only that were the case, the sound would have been most comforting, reassuring. Coming from the leathery lips of this powerful carnivore, it was the most terrifying sound that Aoshi had ever heard.

He leapt back into the mud as the beast swung its heavy tail. The crocodile was too quick for him. It took the high ground and began to advance, forcing him towards the water. Then its eyes popped open - a sure sign that it was seeking for food.

Tazuka was approaching as fast as he could, shouting meaningless syllables, in an attempt to frighten the mighty creature. However, his lame leg and the sticky mud were collaborating to make his progress slow.

Aoshi retreated before the crocodile's relentless onslaught. He found himself up to the ankles in water, then up to the calves. He knew he could not retreat much further. Crocodiles are swift on land, but in the water, they are even deadly swifter.

"Tazuka! Help! Please!"

The older boy dragged himself closer and fell upon the beast. He turned to look at Aoshi as the great teeth of the beast clamped down on his shoulder. With amazing calmness, he said, "Go now, Aoshi! Run all the way home and don't look back."

Aoshi picked up the branch which Tazuka had been brandishing, and beat futilely on the rock hard back of the creature. It paid him no attention though, but set about clinically, devouring the child's older brother.

The screams were to resonate in Aoshi's ears for the rest of his life. The child who had laughed through all the dusty streets of Saku would rarely smile again.

As he had been told, Aoshi ran all the way home. He battered on the wooden door of his home until his mother threw it open. She listened to his jumbled account just long enough to recognize that she had lost her eldest son. Her wail of misery rang through the entire village that day.

Aoshi felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, yet he could not identify its source. He wanted to comfort his mother, but he didn't know how to do this. He wanted to bring Tazuka back to life. But this was not possible. He wanted … he wanted to be something other than he was. Which was just as well.

* * *

Almost exactly a year later, he was selected by the Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu, himself, to train as a worthy omittsu in Kyoto. From the moment he arrived there, he was already a different person - he had discarded the remainder of his true sense of laughter and fun.

At break times he sat reading books while the other young adversaries ran around playing games. During the nights, he lay awake remembering the efficient crunch of the crocodile's teeth on the deadness of his elder brother. And sometimes, he thought of his mother, but not very often. As far as he was concerned, she was someone who had been important in his dim and distance past.

His role, he had decided, in the harsh environment of the Oniwabanshuu, was to be survivor.

And so he survived.

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I've just joined the community and this will be my first post here. Thanks for reading!


	2. First Phase

A product of insomnia

Standard disclaimers apply.

A big thank you to all who'd reveiwed. Thank you so much for your kind words.

The Okashira Who Never Smiles

- First Phase

* * *

Makimachi Akatsuki regarded the boy thoughtfully while flicking away an inquisitive fly. The old man was dressed in his full fighting regalia - a navy blue _omitsu g_i with matching flexi-pants elegantly tailored to the best fit, a protective sturdy jacket of overlapping scales of leather, and boots made from untreated animal hides. He was carrying a small parchment in his hands, and his sword hung conveniently in his belt. Even though he was aged, he made an imposing sight. One which would have struck terror into the soul of any foe.

"You, boy, come over here."

The youth looked irritatedly across the pitch at the elderly figure. Formal lessons for the day have long ended - most of the other acolytes were downtown celebrating a festival. It was _Obon_ or something like that, why they'd bothered celebrating such trivial festivities in life, was beyond him. Which would leave him to practice and perfect his _Kenpo__kata_ in peace, or so he had thought.

"Aoshi, right?" Akatsuki shouted again. At the mention of his name, the boy froze in a majestic stunt - his left leg leading and bent deeply at an angle, his right stretched further back, poised with discipline; whilst his right hand thrust high, strangling the jugular veins of an imaginary foe powerfully, as his fisted left purposefully graced his waist, protecting his kidneys from possible bruising impact.

"Come here, boy," he beckoned urgently. A messenger who had just arrived now hurried away.

Reluctantly, Aoshi obeyed the command. This was, after all, the big leader man himself.

"When the Gods, in their wisdom sent you here, they cannot have known what a heavy burden they were putting on an old man's shoulders."

Aoshi was perplexed. _What wrong did he do?_ He contemplated for a brief while but still failed to come up with anything.

The old man chuckled good-naturedly as he saw the confusion in Aoshi's eyes, "I have been observing you, Aoshi, and you seem to be ahead of your compatriots by leaps. In at least skills and mentality, if I could say so myself. Somehow it frightens me a little, that at such a young age, you are putting out such excellent progress." Aoshi arched a brow. "… Your fighting and actions display a unique quality of quick thinking and maturity that normally someone of your youth could not have possibly possessed."

"Then the Okashira is saying I'm not normal?" Aoshi icily axed.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, boy. I dare say, you are even more dependable than some of my seasoned men!" the Okashira went on, taking in none of Aoshi's hostile tone. "You have a gift, Aoshi. A gift. But that doesn't mean you should be devoid of emotions." He sighed softly.

"It gets lonely being the Okashira sometimes, Aoshi," the man languidly continued. "My wife, the woman I love, sees me as a stranger. My own children, fear me. And my men, I don't know for certain if they're loyally following me out of respect and sheer will or just simply because they have been forcefully blinded by dread," Akatsuki resigned softly.

"Emotions, sir, are irrelevant," the boy's youthful face, hardened. "They always get in the way, … yet lead you to nothing of worth," he briefly looked away before training his inscrutable eyes on the old man again. " I have no need for such paltry things, Okashira," Aoshi affirmed decidedly, yet his voice was almost a whisper.

"That's where you're wrong, Aoshi," the old man retorted. "To bear emotions is to live life. Everyone should all have desires and needs and dreams to fulfill. Things to look forward to and hope. Someday you will too, when you've learnt to love. Love could be for anything – power, ideals, country, comrades, family… Both tangible and non."

As if to emphasize his point, he paused momentarily before resuming, "It is love that gives us strength. Gives one a purpose in life and drives Man to many great achievements. The future I dream of is a time of much happiness, peace and limitless opportunities for my granddaughter to live in…" For a while he looked a little dejected, but the hazy blur in his eyes quickly disappeared with a tiny shake of his head.

"Let us forget about that for now. For now, I want you to put your fighting skills to good use and help me."

At this, he had won Aoshi's interest. Fighting the other disciples during lessons offered little challenge. And he found not much excitement and fun in besting them because he found it too easy. For even very few of his experienced seniors could match his skills. Aoshi had always longed for the excuse to put his _Kenpo_ and _kodachi _wielding abilities to a more genuine purpose. And this could just be it.

"Come with me and I shall explain," said Akatsuki, and he refused to speak further until the two of them were sitting in the old man's study.

The room was littered with strange objects Aoshi was unable to identify. Some were gaudily colored and so bright that it was as if the substances of which they were made glowed of their own accord. Others were in subdued hues, and clearly very ancient. Scores of manuals of assortments of fine arts, old and new alike, mostly of martial nature, decorated the sturdy shelves boldly. Aoshi recognized only a few and noted with much interest, a particular dog-eared one among the odd few that laid defiantly on the floor.

The old warrior saw Aoshi's half-fascinated stare at this, and nodded. "That was written by the first initiator of the Oniwabanshuu," he grunted. "Yes, it was written by my early ancestors. It contains records of our early allies and rival clans, methods of fighting they had utilized and specialized in, information of leaders as well as key right men, lists of some of the most commonly used poisons and their antidotes, and even includes other interesting weapons and skills of those times. You can have it, if you like," the Okashira declared simply, as though all he had just mentioned was of little or no importance at all.

Aoshi looked gamely at the old man._ 'Has he gone senile?'_

"You can, if you become the Okashira… If you become Okashira, you can have all this and more," Akatsuki clarified, observing the reaction of the boy closely. When he decided he wasn't averse to the idea he added, "You may, of course, borrow some of the suitable materials that I have here for now. It never hurts to always be more knowledgeable, yes? And I suppose I can trust you enough with these, can't I?" His face then took on a serious expression but he was happy when Aoshi nodded in understanding.

His right hand reached into his jacket and deftly fished out a pretty _netsuke_. It was tiny, about half the size of his palms and had been skillfully crafted from a beautiful seashell that emanated a brilliant bluish-green color. As he set the little box down, he returned his attention to the boy before him.

"But why me? …Why single me out, Okashira?" Aoshi asked curiously, though trying hard not to let it show.

"Nice little box, isn't it?" Akatsuki posed.

"Lovely." The boy returned him a tetchy nod and, much to Akatsuki's amusement, patiently waited for his answer still.

The Okashira briefly gazed into Aoshi's young eyes as he sighed. "When in an enemy's lair, it is essential to have someone who has your complete trust, to mind your back. … Which brings me," he said, "to the reason I've asked you to help me."

"Understood," said Aoshi, leaning forward slightly.

At this controlled show of emotions, the old man smirked knowingly. "We've heard reports that there are …scouting parties of feudal samurais intruding into our territorial terrain in Edo. So far, … the reports came only from the farms on the flanks of the Fuji Mountains, but unless we repel those _creatures_ as soon as possible, they will become bolder and bolder in their forays."

Akatsuki read the thoughts that were chasing each other across Aoshi's face. "No, no," he said. "I'm not asking you to do battle with the other clan. You're a little too young for that yet." The old man looked out of the window, where the sun was set low in the sky. The days were still short, even though spring was near, and the cold air pinched the brow of the nose and made the earlobes tingle.

"We must repel the intrusion, as I've said," remarked Akatsuki absently, taking the netsuke into his right hand and returning it back into his jacket. "However, before we can send an army against them, we must establish where they are and how strong their forces are. For this we need a spy mission."

The old man looked pointedly at Aoshi. "You have some qualities I admire. One of these is courage, and another is your ability with weapons as well as your outstandingly considerable omitsu skills. I also know that you are a smart boy, but we'd see. Going on a mission of this kind may persuade you that there is more to the way of the Oniwabanshuu than mere courage and brute strength."

"Who else will be on this mission, Sir?" asked Aoshi. He realized that there would be dangers, but at least he was not being asked to battle directly with the ruthless swordsmen. His swordsmanship might be adept, but he was all too conscious of his youth and inexperience.

"Oh," muttered the old man, offhandedly, "it'll be just you and me, of course."

* * *

The Obon festival, is a traditional commemoration of the spirits of the dead. Celebrated in July or August, typical Obon activities include Japanese folk dances, food booths, and carnival games. 


	3. Cosiderations

A product of insomnia

Standard disclaimers apply. 

A big thank you to all who'd reviewed. Thank you so much for your kind words.

The Okashira Who Never Smiles- Considerations

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The brilliance of the sky when Aoshi awoke was like a knife prizing its way into his eyes. He rolled over onto his stomach and shielded his face with his hands. He had slept fitfully during the night, and his head was clanging with fatigue. The grass beneath him smelled cloying and his whole body seemed to be drenched in dew.

"I though I'd let you sleep late, boy," said Akatsuki, the boom of his voice causing Aoshi definite physical pain, "but it's time now that we were on our way again."

Aoshi looked up, squinting against the brightness of the sunlight, and saw the stocky figure of his Okashira silhouetted by the backdrop of sky. The light filtered through the surprisingly thick lengthy tie of the old man's gray hair so that it seemed to shine like polished pewter. He was about to protest to ask for another hour's rest – when he reminded himself that it was the duty of Oniwabanshuu ninjas, even initiates, to push themselves forward when others would balk.  

"Right," he said wearily, pulling himself to his feet. "If you'll just bear with me for a moment…"

"Of course."

***********

Minutes later, they were back on the road. Unlike their meticulous spying activity the night before, they could now effortlessly see where they were going and made good time.

As Aoshi had learnt in Kyoto, the best way of moving swiftly across level terrain was to run then walk intervals of a hundred yards, or so, throughout the journey. He was pleased to notice that he was better able to cope with this demanding regime than his Okashira. Yet Akatsuki, although he soon showed signs of tiredness, made no complaints. 

At noon, they made a halt at the side of a stream. They bathed their faces and drank copiously: the water was wonderfully chilly. Aoshi was voraciously hungry but he said nothing: if Akatsuki could keep going without food, then so could he. He pushed the grumblings and mumblings of his stomach out of his mind.

***********

Aoshi and Akatsuki crouched behind a huge rock that jutted from the bleak hillside. The setting sun colored the sky an abstruse orange, marred with fringes of ocher and patches of amorphous black.

In a shallow col beneath them was a small encampment of lowly foots men. The feudal samurai in charge of the band was fast asleep, snoring loudly. Some of the former were likewise taking the opportunity to sleep, while others milled about, apparently bored and trying to think up of great tales that never quite happened, to boast about to each other.

After a while, Aoshi grew bored with watching them. He turned his back to the rock and looked out across the foothills over the great plains of Edo. He could see the neat fields of the farmers laid out across the land like a multi-hued gray checkerboard. It was too far to see individual figures, if there were any at this time of the day, but he could imagine farmers urging their horses forward to till the soil or reap the crops, could almost scent the dull cows plodding along as they grazed on the grass, could…

Suddenly, he felt a big warm hand over his mouth.

"It's time to leave," hissed the Okashira.

Taking care to make as little sound as possible, the two of them edged their way from the protection of their rock, moving backwards on their still empty stomachs. The sun was almost gone when they finally reached the corner of some straggly trees and could stand up to stretch their stiff muscles.

A bat fluttered across their line of sight as they gazed out over the plains of Edo.

"We must travel some distance tonight, boy" said Akatsuki. " I'd like to put a good distance between ourselves and them before we sleep." Aoshi nodded approvingly.

For over an hour, they scrambled and tripped down the hillside in increasing dense darkness. Once they were on level ground again, they made swifter progress. As they walked along the dirt track, they could occasionally hear nocturnal animals busily shuffling in the fields to either side.

Aoshi loped easily alongside his Okashira, feeling rather smug about the fact that Akatsuki was treating him as an equal rather than as a pupil. They walked in companionable silence before Akatsuki abruptly said, "It'll begin soon." The boy frowned quietly to himself, not liking the idea, before turning to look at his Okashira.

"The feudal war," Akatsuki began again and then coughed and did not speak for a few moments. "It's going to be an ugly business, this…It's been a long time… Japan isn't ready for any kind of war now, let alone resist the usurping powers… The northern feudal princes and lords are no longer happy with just their inheritance… they seek for more… They want the whole of Japan." He swerved to avoid a rock in the road.

"What we were watching are only an advance guard, and as far as I could gather from what they were saying, and from the reports I had received from our informers… other clans too, have expressed similar… interests," he paused looking a little disturbed.

"We can expect a full scale civil war either this summer or the next…" the old man briefly averted his gaze away from the dirt road to look at his companion before returning it back just as quickly. 

"We have sworn allegiance…. to protect the king and his kingdom. …But the Oniwabanshuu, by ourselves, aren't enough… Raising a united army in so short a time to repel these forces, isn't going to be easy."

Aoshi saw the jaws of his Okashira clenched and unclenched.

"Trouble is," he continued, "the people of Japan have become lackadaisical in recent years, assuming the peace will last forever…. Well, Aoshi, the peace could end in just a few months' time- a year, if we are lucky. But it's going to be hard to persuade them of it."

"But surely when we tell them…" Aoshi offered, though deep down he knew it was otherwise.

"People don't like to be told what they don't want to hear, Aoshi… Far too many farmers and artisans are going to bask in their complacency and tell us that we're just scare mongering. …I wish people were different, Aoshi, but that's the way the Gods made them."

The darkness was now so deep that it was almost impossible for them to make out the road ahead; Had it not been for Akatsuki's skills in tracking, they would have been hopelessly lost. 

When the wind told them they were near a clump of trees, Akatsuki put his hand on the adolescent's shoulders and came to a halt. 

"That's enough for tonight," he said. " We'll set camp here and carry on in the morning."

Aoshi was only too willing to acquiesce.

**************

They exchanged a few words over a well-deserved meal of roasted rice cakes and burnt sweet potatoes, downing the bulk with sake; but Aoshi had wisely kept to his supply of spring water. – A similar experience the previous day had unpleasantly reminded him of the lingering acrid aftertaste in his mouth that wouldn't go away even as he slept, not to mention, a throbbing headache that greeted him when he awoke. He had decided he did not like sake. And he watched horridly as the old man easily downed his share unflinchingly. 

"You should go easy on the drink, Okashira."

Akatsuki almost laughed out loud at the boy but stopped himself when he saw the beautiful features of his youthful companion hardened and seemingly morphed into that of a resolved young man; twice his own age yet carries signs of wisdom multiple times beyond Akatsuki's own. He is interesting, this boy.

"Why?" he probed, more out of annoyance than curiosity.

"What would your granddaughter think if she saw you like this?" the boy answered him with a question.

"Hn." The elderly man snorted in reply and turned away from the fire.

Akatsuki could vividly recall the night he had summoned Aoshi into his room days ago. (*refer to chapter 2 of TOWNS- First Phase*) He knew Aoshi was no ordinary boy. This boy was aware and confident of his own capabilities. And though reserved, he could clearly think and plan well for himself and others; here is a boy who has the mind of a genius, despite his inexperience and tender age. And most important, he was not afraid to speak his mind and make mistakes.

_//"To err is human, sir," Akatsuki remembered the boy saying that night. "Even the best leaders sometimes make mistakes."_

_"Then don't hesitate to tell me if I'm wrong, Aoshi," he had offered._

_"I won't" the boy had answered almost immediately "… Likewise, Okashira, for I have much to learn still."_

_"Of course."_

_"…"_

_"…"_

_"…"_

_"…"_

_"Is that all, sir?" Aoshi had asked before retiring for the night._

_"Yes. That's all." Akatsuki had remembered replying._

_"I'll take my leave, then." The boy bowed his head and soundlessly stood up._

_"Rest well, Aoshi," Akatsuki had told him just as the boy was turning to leave._

_ But the boy had halted at the door and looking sideways, called out softly to him, "Okashira?" Akatsuki said nothing but curiously watched him. "I respect you… I don't follow you because I fear you. I follow you because I want to…. There's no dread in that. Not if I can help it. … Good night."//_

Akatsuki leaned back into the cold hard wood behind him, sighing softly. Surreptitiously, he pulled out the tiny teal box he had in his robe, admiring its beauty for a while, before lifting its lid open.

The sweet scent of lilies wafted into the air, invading his senses. That made him smile, if even a little; made him feel a small nuance of happiness reaching into him, though it was ephemeral. It is impossibly hard to stay happy when war was impendingly near.

In times of protected peace as now, people began to think that war would never come again, at least not in their lifetimes – and swords were used as sickles or allowed to become rusty and blunt. Akatsuki had been unfortunate enough to have had witness it once, when he was a mere child himself, very much like Aoshi. And he was going to experience it again, this time in his old age.

Yes, he was acutely aware of his dwindling years and the lack of what was left of it. He only wanted to make sure that the Oniwabanshuu would be left in good and capable hands before his days were numbered.

Nenji, his key right hand man, had always made it clear from the start that he had no desire, whatsoever, to succeed him. It was a pity for he was such a suitable candidate. But in consolation, he had reassured Akatsuki that the perfect replacement would come along in time – one who is wiser and more gifted than himself. And that he would continue to support the next Okashira as enthusiastically as he had supported him.

Akatsuki's own two sons were passable omittsus but hardly talented enough to lead. It was probably the reason why he was still dominating as Okashira despite being far beyond his prime. Then he had set his sights on Hannya.

Hannya was the son of his wife's maid; a scrawny little boy who was pleasantly well-mannered. His father had died soon after the boy turned five, leaving both mother and son with nothing except for the clothes on their backs and an abyss of debts.

Often, he was bullied by the older children in the area - but he never told on them nor did he even attempt to fight them back. That had surprised Akatsuki, for he had sometimes seen Hannya lurking in the shadows, secretively joining whatever lessons he could. 

And it was evident that the boy was a natural. So Akatsuki did the only thing he should do: he recruited Hannya when his long-suffering mother passed on. Hannya was only nine when that happened. 

Ever smiling, he was very easy to like. And his ability to learn fast and his gifted agility won him countless songs of praises. Yet he was forever humble to all. And irrespective of his strength, he remained docile to orders.

He was like Nenji; almost perfect – sharp senses, keen fighter, steadfast and dependable. But the boy lack innovativeness. He does everything as exactly told, fight as unerringly as taught and even plan as uncompromisingly as trained. And that was his flaw.

Hannya doesn't question, isn't flexible, could not decide – his lead wanes when posed with a dilemma. …But he makes an excellent follower, the perfect soldier.

He's at least five years Aoshi's senior and was hence, more of a man than Aoshi. But where he falters, Aoshi shines; where he's good, Aoshi's brilliant. Perhaps the younger boy holds more promise. A little cold, but he's worth the consideration. He could very well be the one.

What would a dying old man want as he gradually makes his exit out of the living world? Surely peace and, at least, the safety of all he loves and cares for.

Sighing heavy-heartedly, Akatsuki fished out the golden hair clip from the netsuke and somberly watched the light from the fire began to play an intricate dance on its surface.

"It's beautiful… I'm sure your granddaughter will love it," the boy had spoken tersely over the mildly crackling fire.

Akatsuki darted his eyes to Aoshi, who in turn, was indolently watching the sky. "T… Thank you," he replied uncertainly, as his gaze fell back to the vanity ornament in his right palm. "…but I don't know if I'd ever live to see her old enough to wear it," he revealed.

"You will," Aoshi quietly assured, though his face remained cast skywards still. "If you were to be as good as a grandfather you wish to be, even if you're no longer here, I'm sure you'll be watching over her everyday."

Akatsuki found himself smiling, grinning wide from ear to ear. "Ah." He settled himself in, put away his personals, smoothen his blanket and bid the boy goodnight. At least there's still hope. Tomorrow's a brand new day. A lot more things need to be done tomorrow.

The boy relapsed into silence once more as his Okashira slumbered. For the thousandth time that night, he caressed the hilt of his sword, and wondered what it would be like if he should have to really use it. Would he be incapable of killing another intelligent being, no matter how evil or wrong his believes and intentions are? He didn't know and a large part of him hoped that he might never know…


End file.
